


Shadow of the Consortium

by alexandertheII



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandertheII/pseuds/alexandertheII
Summary: It has been half a year since the evacuation of the Alliance from Yavin IV. Time Harry and his crew have spent hunting bounties as well as the occasional servant of the Empire. However, it will not be the Empire that poses the newest threat to them, not Vader or Palpatine or even one of their Admirals. It will be greed and a talented man with too much of it. Sequel to "A New World"
Relationships: Leia Organa/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. Hunter/Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Wars and Harry Potter copyrights lie with their respective owners, should any of them have any problem with my story being shared, I will comply with their wishes and remove it from circulation.  
> Please do not copy this work or any part of it.

Harry Potter awoke from a surprisingly restful sleep, shaken awake by the merciless alarm; merciless by design of its Imperial originators. From time to time, it was easy to forget that the _Lightbringer_ had once been one of their ships. This was not one of these times.

“Mercer, what is it?” he barked into the communicator that he always had on his bedside table when there was even the chance something like this might happen. Thankfully, it had only happened thrice this far.

_“Seems our newest target found us first,”_ the voice of his first officer, second-in-command and all-around good friend came back through the device, slightly distorted by the digitalisation. _“And she brought friends.”_

“I’ll be right up,” the captain half-groaned, half-growled back, already swinging his legs over the side of his bed and into the waiting uniform trousers; it was almost like he had been expecting trouble. Well, no, there was really no ‘almost’ about it. He _had_ been expecting trouble. That was a given, considering their quarry was one of the Emperor’s inquisitors. In fact, she was the second of these agents they had actively sought out, and even though the first had been only a novice, he had put up quite a fight, especially when one considered his rights to simply conscript a local garrison into helping him.

The trousers were soon followed by the dark top and uniform jacket, the whole thing rounded out by a rather severe cap that Mercer claimed, ‘gave him an aura of authority he otherwise lacked’. Within a minute and a half, he was on the corridor where, despite the dangerous situation, it was surprisingly, satisfyingly silent, not that he would have expected anything less. Over the last six months since their daring rescue of the Alliance leadership at Yavin, the first officer had been conducting a bevvy of emergency drills for just such a situation. By now, the watch personnel were definitely already at battle stations, while the off-duty personnel were getting ready to assume their posts, as well.

Grumbling about safety protocol, Harry entered the ladder shaft next to the turbolifts and began the short trip toward the command level; apparently (another one of Mercer’s dubious improvements) using turbolifts during emergencies was dangerous, especially on such a small ship. Nevertheless, it was only another thirty seconds until he was on the bridge, looking around at the watch crew.

“What’s the situation?” he asked authoritatively, a tone that had been hard to come by in the beginning but was becoming easier and easier to use, even though he did not enjoy it all that much.

“Fighters on our scanners, too far away for them to pick up a transponder, but close enough to have picked up our sensor signature,” the sensor officer replied. “Switching transponder codes… now.”

“Start jamming and get me a visual scan,” Harry ordered, attention riveted to the view screen above the sensor station down in the trench. “Let’s see what we have here… I don’t know these. Mercer?”

“TIE hunters,” the former Imperial replied, a tinge of worry now creeping into his voice. “Those things are bad news. If the Empire hasn’t suddenly changed doctrine, those are only available to the storm commandoes, and if there are TIE hunters… yes, there it is.”

He pointed at a new sensor contact closing in rather quickly now, though the rate at which they were able to close in grew smaller and smaller as the _Lightbringer_ was accelerating. “That’s going to be an escort carrier. We might, or we might not be able to take that thing out, but I really don’t want to try right now. This is weird, though.”

“What is?” Arden demanded, striding onto the bridge like nothing was the matter, directly followed by Iabaes, who had somehow managed to already have her armour donned, which was a serious feat, considering the intricacies of a Mandalorian’s battle dress.

“Well, they’re commandoes, just like the name says. The dossier we got on them says they’re specialised in covert assaults, stealth, the occasional bombing,” Mercer replied, his furrowed brow almost audible in his tone of voice. “This, attacking a target easily able to fight back, is not their style.”

“You said it yourself,” the captain observed, thinking back on the words his first officer had used to inform him, right after the alarm had started blaring through the corridors. “Their commander will be one of the Inquisitors. We have yet to meet one who isn’t afflicted by terrible hubris. How long until these fighters reach us?”

The sensor operator, at whom the last part had been directed, answered promptly, “120 seconds until the fighters reach us, we’re gaining on the other contact now.”

“Alright, we’ll make a jump as soon as possible, backup location beta. We can come back later.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Boss,” Mercer interjected at that point. “Might be a good idea to take out those fighters now, as long as they’re away from their carrier. Even with their torpedoes, they won’t be able to do much damage, and each of those cost the Empire a hefty sum to build. That’s not even counting the cost of training the commandoes that fly them. And if they’ve found us once, they might find us again. We should take this opportunity.”

Harry pondered their possibilities for a while, weighing possible pros and cons. Just jumping out of the system would probably have them gone without taking any damage. On the other hand, Mercer was most definitely correct: they had been found once, they could be found again, and taking away an enemy’s tools before they could be effectively used did seem like a good idea. That was without even taking into account how annoyed whatever Imperial bureaucrat would be when they read the request for new, advanced fighters because their predecessors had been destroyed in a pointless chase.

“Alright, keep us ahead of the larger ship and your eyes on the sensors,” he ordered, eyes still riveted onto the tactical screen. “Lock our jump coordinates in. When they’re five seconds out of range, cut all thrust and turn us around, take them out as quickly as possible, then make the jump. I want a nice, wide field of fire to greet our new friends.”

“Yes, sir,” the assembled bridge crew replied, from the helmsman (or rather helmswoman, on this shift) to the navigator, including tactical and gunnery, and everybody else. It seemed they trusted his command even under stress. Harry, for his part, was just happy Leia was not with them right in that moment.

They all watched as the seconds ticked by inexorably slowly, the sensor dots on the tactical map drew ever closer. “Targets in range in T-10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

“Cut thrust and turn,” the captain ordered briskly, having sat down in his chair and strapped himself in by now; the Empire might have decided the increase in authority the commanding officer gained by standing was an acceptable gain for the trade-off of aching knees, but he had begged to differ. Therefore, three months earlier, a nice, if rather utilitarian and still authoritative command chair had been added to the bridge for those long watch shifts.

Over his musings, the quick manoeuvre had been executed, and a cone of missiles from the ordinance launcher was already flying at their targets, closely followed by a dense curtain of laser fire. Combined, these shots had already managed to take out eight out of their twelve pursuers, while one had been set adrift by a lucky hit with an ion cannon. The remaining fighters, however, had a few surprises of their own, it seemed.

“Evasive manoeuvre!” Harry called as he saw the signature purple glow of proton torpedoes headed their way. “Tactical, keep up the pressure so they can’t line up another shot.”

Those with nothing in particular to do, which included an ashen-faced navigator, watched with baited breaths as first one, then two torpedoes sailed past, another one was hit by a stray laser bolt and three others… impacted the shields, rattling the ship mightily, but not doing any obvious harm.

“Damage report,” Mercer barked, all of the usual joviality gone during the combat situation.

“Minor hit to starboard shields, no structural damage,” the young man manning the tactical station announced. “All attackers dispatched, one disabled.”

“How much time do we have until the carrier reaches us?” the captain asked the sensor officer, keeping a close eye on the hunter that had been disabled by the lucky ion hit.

“Three minutes, at current speed,” came the swift reply, as Harry was already working on getting off any electronic equipment, he had on himself.

“Helmsman, bring us alongside that disabled hunter; Arden, get rid of any electronics you have on yourself, we’re going to the hangar,” he announced, both stunned and surprisingly satisfied with seeing that people were simply doing as they were told; he really did seem to have earned their trust. That was a rather gratifying experience, even if it was cut short by the Dathomirian witch grabbing his arm tightly.

When the oppressive feeling of apparition faded, they took in the sight of the hangar, looking disturbingly empty without the presence of the red-hued M14-X fighters they had left behind with the Alliance fleet to be serviced and modified to their specifications. It had been their part of a deal that afforded the Rebellion a copy of the plans for the prototype fighter. Though they were too expensive for massive production runs, a few elite squadrons were probably going to get lucky.

As the armour plates covering the hangar entrance peeled back only the atmospheric shielding remained in place to protect them from the void of interplanetary space. And right there in front of them floated the deactivated TIE hunter.

“I’m going to summon this thing to me,” Harry began his wild plan (they were a specialty of his, after all), but was quickly interrupted.

“You have 90 seconds, Boss.”

“Thank you, Mercer,” he replied, before returning attention to Arden. “You cast a levitation charm, so this thing doesn’t flatten us as soon as it crosses into the artificial gravity.”

The witch nodded sharply and drew her wand, shaped from some beskar they had been given by the Mandalorians, the crystal of their first Imperial Inquisitor’s red lightsabre the core, and made the classic ‘swish and flick’-gesture that made casting the charm so easy. Obviously, it was possible to do it without, but infinitely more difficult, which, quite frankly, they could not use in this particular moment.

“Accio TIE hunter,” Harry grunted, already feeling the strain of pumping the power for this spell through his body. Manageable, but not pleasant; the summoning charm was not the most efficient piece of magic. Even so, the disabled fighter began moving soon, enabling him to stop the flow of magic rather quickly and move around the ball-shaped cockpit to look through the canopy at the slumped figure inside. “Ion hit must have taken out life support on both the ship and the armour…”

Despite the seeming inaction of the figure inside the vessel, the wizard clambered up the still unfolded S-foils, breached the hatch with a low-powered exploding hex and sent in a stunner.

Then another one, for good measure. No sense in letting in an enemy saboteur capable of attacking his ship from the inside.

“We’ve secured the disabled fighter,” Harry loudly announced into the direction of a corner where he knew the intercom system had a microphone. “You can take us out of here while I have a little chat with our guest.”

OOOOOOOO

When the dark fog over SC-1175’s mind began lifting, the acutely trained senses of the shadow scout began taking in the situation in earnest, though he kept his eyes closed for a few seconds more, hoping to catch his captors unawares, maybe overhear something useful while they still thought he was out for the count. The armour was obviously gone, as were the hold-out blaster and thermal detonator meant to be used in a situation such as this to prevent enemy interrogation. Well, there was still… No, the poison-filled tooth was gone as well. Whoever they were, they seemed to be thorough and well-informed.

“I see you’ve noticed your tooth is missing,” a surprisingly young voice broke through SC-1175’s tactical deliberations. “You might as well open your eyes, I know you’re awake, anyway.”

Annoyed at himself for having reacted to the loss of his way out, even if that way out was death, the storm commando raised hid eyelids and took in the room. Stark, but functional, rather austere in its design, the space contained only him, fastened to a bolted-down chair with heavy shackles and a young man whose face… whose face was barely even visible beneath the hood of a black robe. The only thing the shadows revealed were two glowing eyes with burning orange irises.

“I won’t tell you anything, Jedi scum,” SC-1175 declared defiantly, because the alternative to Jedi scum was too terrifying to contemplate. It was bad enough having one of these abominations on his back, let alone being caught in a struggle between two of them, and not even the Inquisitor had such burning darkness lurking underneath her gaze.

“You will, because you won’t have much choice,” the shadow announced, just as a feeling that was hard to really characterise swept over the soldier, who belatedly realised that he had almost been frozen in his moment of attempted rebuttal, mouth opened to speak words that would simply not spill forth. With just his eyes able to continue moving, he could just about make out as the man in the robe pulled forth a small container of a clear liquid, from which he took a pipette and let fall three droplets onto his captive’s tongue. Immediately, the growing panic (and yes, panic was allowed in this situation, even for a special forces soldier) was replaced by a sense of peace and calm, something SC-1175 tried to fight, but failed to resist.

“Now, how did you find us?” the shadow asked, and as much as he wanted to want to resist, his captive could not find it in himself.

“A spy noticed you asking around on Reytha and managed to attach a beacon to your ship,” the captured soldier relayed emotionlessly what might as well get him killed. If anyone ever found out about this, he would be court-martialled and executed. And he would make damn sure people found out, if only so that the Empire knew of the danger this man might pose.

“Who is the commander of your unit?” his interrogator continued to question.

“SC-1068.”

“Alright, who commanded you to attack our ship?”

“Inquisitor Fandiq.”

When next the shadow spoke, SC-1175 thought he might just be able to hear a hint of vindication… no, resoluteness in his voice. Despite how hard whatever had been given to him made it to think, that was enough to know the real target of these people was in fact the Inquisitor who had simply swooped in a week earlier and taken over command of their carried.

“What kind of complement does your carrier have, troops and starships…”

OOOOOOOO

As the door swished close behind him, Harry pulled down the hood of the robe he had transfigured and ended the illusion he had placed over his face, both the unnatural shadows and the burning, orange eyes.

“Fair costuming, but what exactly was the point?” Arden inquired from where she had been standing, leaning on the wall casually, yet with the grace of a predator.

“The point was that I’ve been wanting to test my dark-sider impersonation for a while now,” the wizard replied, just as he was reversing the transfiguration of his uniform. “Think of the opportunities if we can manage to get the credentials of one of these Inquisitors. They can go literally anywhere and seize any Imperial asset they want. Oh, the things we could… let’s call it requisition for ourselves and the Alliance. We could take an interdictor, maybe even an ISD.”

“Slow down, Harry,” the witch urged him, though the amused smile on her face told a different story. “You know as well as I do that neither we, nor the Alliance would know what to do with a star destroyer. Probably wouldn’t even have the manpower…”

“Yes, yes of course. The amount of material to be gained from stealing one of those, though,” the captain countered with a certain glee. “First, you unload anything that isn’t bolted down, weapons, armour, vehicles, fuel, then you take out every piece of hardware time permits and scuttle whatever’s left. And don’t forget that each of these things has one of those prefabricated garrison bases on board. That sounds like something we might find interesting, right?”

Immediately, Arden’s eyes widened at the implication, for over the months between now and their intervention at the evacuation of Yavin 4, a repeat topic among the core crew of Harry’s two ships had been the idea of a base of operation, something different than the small asteroid in the Corellia system and independent of the political whims of Alliance leadership. That was bound to become important, especially if they planned to offer more people refuge from the aggressions of the Empire and teach those that could learn the magic of his original reality.

“Wouldn’t even need to be such a nice planet,” the wizard surmised. “Only needs to be barely known, so I can cast a Fidelius charm. Everything else can be worked out.”

“That’s what Kisc and the others on the _Morningstar_ are looking for,” Arden exclaimed in understanding. “I thought they were just doing the same as us, hunting bounties, keeping an eye out for anything we might be interested in.”

“Well, they are,” Harry clarified nonchalantly, now leading the way toward the bridge, before speaking into his commlink. “Mercer, there’s a tracker somewhere on the outside of the ship, our guest just confirmed it.”

Having clicked off, he looked back at the Dathomirian. “They’re just also using the time that’s left to scout out possible locations for our base of operations. There are millions of superficially charted star systems in the Imperial databases that were not interesting enough to exploit but might just be exactly what we need. Hello Javoc, Famet.”

Waiting for them at the turbolifts were exactly the former Army technician and weapons trader Harry would have asked for to join them in the conference room, anyway. “I assume you’ve heard?”

“Oh, yes, I have,” the blue-skinned man enthused, all the while the former Imperial nodded eagerly. “I’d be thrilled at the opportunity to study the armour of a storm commando, Captain.”

A smile on his face, Harry replied in the affirmative. “One condition though,” he stipulated to halt the flood of excitement that was headed his way. “We still have an Inquisitor on our tail, and I don’t fancy our chances of finding the beacon that’s been placed on our ship. Conference room, so you can share your insights, then tinkering.”

The group of four boarded the lift at that, quickly ascending to the command deck where they were joined by Mercer and Corsek as they stepped into the conference room and each took a seat around the table with the built-in holographic projector.

“What did you learn from the prisoner?” the first officer questioned without preamble, his tone business-like and strictly controlled, like it tended to become in strenuous situations.

“Well, you were right, he did come from an Imperial escort carrier, and the one currently holding their reins is the Inquisitor we’ve been looking for, a woman by the name of Fandiq,” Harry relayed what he had learned from their captive under the influence of his knock-off of veritaserum. Producing it had not been easy, and even finding the ingredients was ridiculously expensive, but obviously so worth it. “Luckily, they’re out of TIE hunters now, which is good news, as far as I’m concerned. And, their ship is manned by a really small crew, with only 28 storm commandoes left, plus twenty support staff. And the Inquisitor, obviously.”

Now gleefully grinning (more like his non-stressed persona, really) Mercer interjected, “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“I have no idea what you think I’m thinking, Mercer,” the captain replied casually, though the raised eyebrow would have been enough to betray they were both equally aware of what was being talked about. “I just know that I think the Empire doesn’t really seem to need that ship. And it’s not like we’re getting to our target any other way, right?”

OOOOOOOO

Floating around in space was an odd feeling, the weightlessness lending itself to a certain sense of freedom seldom enjoyed, even during the months of space travel he had by now been doing, simply for the fact that most of it happened on ships with artificial gravity. Therefore, simply being able to float around was something completely new Harry was determined to enjoy, and so what, if the reason for it was purely of a tactical nature; he and his team were having to wait, so he might as well enjoy himself while they did so.

“Having fun?” Iabaes, who had insisted on joining the boarding team commented wryly from the spot on the floor, to which her magnetised boots had affixed her feet.

“Very much,” the captain replied humorously, all the while bouncing off of the ceiling, over to the closed troop bay doors and to the ground. “We might have been playing limp for a while now, but we still had a good lead on them last time I checked. Might have to wait for hours.”

During their preparation for the upcoming battle, cognizant of their Imperial pursuers’ ability to easily track them, thanks to the small beacon they had only managed to find a mere minutes before the boarding party had entered the gunship, the crew of the _Lightbringer_ had made all the efforts to pretend like their ship had problems. Fuel problems, more specifically, that problem being not having any. They had started flying slower, even deactivated a few unnecessary subsystems on the off chance that the homing device also transmitted energy readings.

“And you’re sure those mines are going to work?” Corsek asked, the question more aimed at the entire room, than any one person in particular.

“Positive,” Javoc replied, a wide, somewhat self-satisfied smirk on his face. “We’ve mined both the direct route and the two shortest indirect ones through the asteroids, and we only have to send the signal. If Palestro says they work, they work.”

These ‘mines’, though really, whether calling repurposed ion warheads mines was the correct terminology, Harry was not quite sure, had really been the thing that made all of this possible. Otherwise, they would have just had to get rid of the beacon and try again, or maybe sneak someone on board on the captured TIE hunter, an idea no one had been particularly fond of. They had all been able to easily imagine the Imperials opening up fire on their own ship at the slightest hint of foul play. This way though? The remotely triggered ion charges would take care of most, if not all of the enemy shields, pose a nice distraction and allow the boarding team to close in.

And was it not lucky that the Republic had added atmospheric shielding to at least some of their LAAT/is?

In one of the satchels attached to his armour, Harry’s communication mirror began vibrating, so he pulled it out and answered the call.

_“90 seconds, Boss,”_ the image of Mercer on the reflective surface informed the team. _“Sorry for the short warning time, we had to reduce power to the sensors.”_

With a sharp nod, the young wizard terminated the communication and turned toward the boarding party: a wild mix of Alliance special forces, former Imperials, the spec ops team (minus their obnoxious former leader, obviously), a wizard and a witch, though from vastly different cultures that had yet somehow managed to take on the same names. What could go wrong with that?

“28 storm commandoes, whenever you take one out, announce it on comms. The remaining 22 are non-combat personnel, so unless they fire first, they are to be captured, not killed. When you run into the Inquisitor, tell us where, and turn the other way. If you can’t do that, use the slugthrowers,” Harry ordered the group to generalised grim nodding. “Now, weapons check, and good luck.”


	2. Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Wars and Harry Potter copyrights lie with their respective owners, should any of them have any problem with my story being shared, I will comply with their wishes and remove it from circulation.  
> Please do not copy this work or any part of it.

It was with baited breaths that the bridge crew of the _Lightbringer_ watched the sensor contact for the Imperial escort carrier come ever closer to the centre of the tactical map, weaving through asteroids with surprising agility and speed. Not as nimble as their quick Raider corvette, but it was also more than two and a half times longer, as well as built for something completely different. With that in mind, both its armament and its speed were nothing to scoff at.

“Lieutenant, we have a problem,” the sensor officer announced, superfluous as that announcement might have been. Mercer himself had obviously seen it himself, already: seemingly having learned from their previous engagement, the one commanding their enemies was obviously reluctant to follow into a situation where they could not control what was going on. Instead, the larger vessel had simply launched more of the flying sarcophagi that more polite circles tended to call TIE fighters.

“Be ready to re-engage energy at a moment’s notice, shields have first priority,” the Imperial deserter ordered in clipped tones, eyes riveted to the tactical map, which showed the sensor silhouettes of three of the Imperial strike craft closing in. “If they wanted to attack us, they have other options. Everyone, just keep calm.”

It was a tense silence that filled the bridge, as the three fighters closed in and completed first one, then two fly-bys, close enough that a particularly long human might have been able to touch their wings, only to then immediately lose their hands because, well, they were moving at a hefty speed, despite the relatively close confines of the asteroid field.

“Come on, you know you want to…” Mercer muttered, staring at the sensor contact for the enemy carrier, still sitting idly behind a large asteroid. “We’re obviously not a danger anymore, and I’m sure you’d want to capture the one who dared come after you, right?”

“New sensor contact,” the sensor operator informed the group mechanically, though the first officer thought he might have heard a sliver of fear slip into the officer’s voice. “It’s a TIE bom… boarding shuttle!”

“Ready ion weapons, open fire as soon as they come around the asteroid. Ion weaponry only on the shuttle,” Mercer immediately ordered, gaze flicking from tactical, to the gunnery stations, back to the holo map. “Seems like they really did learn. Helm, take us past the secondary minefield at 3 o’ clock as soon as that shuttle is disabled.”

From behind the shadow of the truly giant space rock moved out a small shape, its outer dimensions similar to the far more common TIE bombers it was modelled after, and began turning its way toward the apparently stricken form of the corvette, vulnerably lying in space, ripe for the taking.

“Open fire,” the young woman manning tactical ordered to the gunners working under her, and within moments, the void around the _Lightbringer_ was filled with lightning of green and blue, as the cannons began opening up on their surprised opposition. With nary a whimper to mark their passing, the three fighters were disposed of, and the boarding shuttle disabled. “Strike craft terminated according to your orders, shields at full strength.”

“The carrier’s energy signature just spiked,” the sensor officer informed the bridge at large. “Temperature readings suggest increased engine power… Yes, they’re falling off.”

Against his better judgement, Mercer allowed himself a small, mumbled curse. While it was certainly a victory in its own right to simply drive this particular enemy away, it was not exactly what they had been hoping for, and it was not what they needed, either. The Inquisitor was still their target for this mission, and now liable to hide behind enough stormtroopers and Imperial ships to make even people as used to impossible odds as Harry and the Alliance think twice about attacking again. However, it was in that moment that one particular titbit of information came back to the former Imperial, a sort of accepted truth that tended to be bandied around the rank and file; never provoke one of the Emperor’s ‘special’ servants. So, he made his way from where he had been standing behind his captain’s command chair over to the communications station, selected an open channel and started broadcasting.

“This is the Emperor’s great Inquisitor?” he asked into the aether, neither expecting nor really wanting an answer. “If I didn’t know that monster lacked this kind of emotion altogether, I would think you were a pity-hire.”

On the holographical map, the enemy signature had stopped moving. “I mean really, losing against a single corvette with a ship that’s almost three times the size. What does failure like that go for these days? Execution? Banishment?” Toward the bridge crew he added, “Make ready to detonate those ion charges. If this works, they’re going to be pissed.”

And indeed, after the last sentence had been broadcast, the enemy escort carrier did turn around at the highest turning speed it could probably muster and started barrelling toward the gap between the asteroids the crew had deemed most likely for them to fly through in their setting up of the ambush. Then, right as they passed the midpoint of that small passage, the satisfying explosion of ion charges lit up space and left the larger ship shieldless and with sputtering engines.

OOOOOOOO

“Alright people, it’s our turn now, as long as they’re still confused,” Harry informed the gathered boarding party inside the LAAT/i, before tapping the intercom system they had installed to speak to the pilot. “Take us in, middle of the dorsal superstructure.”

As the former Republic gunship began its flight to the desired entry point, its location curtesy of the captured commando’s involuntarily given information, the wizard returned attention to the actual boarders in the troop compartment. “They’ve lost another twenty in an attempted boarding, but we don’t know, who the people inside that shuttle actually were. Until we learn anything else, assume the continued presence of 28 storm commandoes. You know your targets, let’s get moving.”

“Yes, sir!” the assembled group replied enthusiastically; learning there were potentially twenty less people to fight against would do that to you, Harry surmised, even as the troop compartment was vented of its atmosphere and he had to rely on his armour’s inbuilt environmental controls and oxygen supply to continue in the general state of ‘living’. Upon his nod, Javoc took up his bag and made a leap toward the hull of the enemy ship, sticking to the metal by magnets on his hands and feet. After disengaging the force that kept his hands locked to the surface, he began pulling ominously shaped objects from that very same bag and affixing them to the thick plating.

No matter, these were strong directional charges, and it would take more than a few inches, or even feet, of doonium, to keep them at bay.

As soon as he was out of the blast zone (surprisingly small, owing once again to the fact that these were directional charges), Javoc triggered the explosives in an impressive display of destruction, blowing a hole into the hull wide enough for two men to walk through side by side. Also, large enough for a good portion of the carrier’s internal atmosphere to be vented in moments. It stood to hope for the non-combat personnel that they were somewhere else, behind some sealed bulkhead, maybe on the bridge. Upon his hand-signalled order, the boarding party fell in line behind Harry and Arden, both with shields up, jumped out of the troop compartment and through the breach.

OOOOOOOO

Rage was burning through Inquisitor Fandiq’s veins; it had been there even before that insolent little insect had dared insult her, and over an open channel, no less. But when her carrier had been disabled, and particularly when an explosion of an entirely different kind had shaken the ship, the red haze of absolute fury had truly exerted itself over her senses.

Lightsabre drawn, she was now pacing along the corridors toward where she sensed the presence in the Force that had not been there before; it was an odd one, to be sure, but it was also the only thing that had really changed after the explosion, so it stood to reason the two were somehow related. Not that reason was high on her list of priorities, right then. As she stepped out of the turbolift on the uppermost level and pivoted into the corridor she expected to meet her adversary in, she was immediately accosted by blaster fire, which she batted away with her red blade, sneering at the now screaming intruder with the charred blaster wound in contempt.

Then, however, something changed. When she swung to intercept the next bolt, that movement was not met with the usual fulfilling sensation of the shot ricocheting. Instead there was a hot burning sensation on her lower arms, followed by an intense sting to the left shoulder. Kinetic weapons. The Inquisitor cursed internally, unleashed a wave of Force energy charged with her anger and fear down the corridor and slipped back into the one she had come from.

OOOOOOOO

“That was a Nightsister,” Arden declared unceremoniously, the depth of loathing on her face speaking to her contempt for her fellow exiled Dathomirian, those that had fully committed themselves to the dark side of the Force. “We need to follow her, quickly. There’s no telling what she might cook up, otherwise.”

At Harry’s raised eyebrow she added, “Yes, literally. Or figuratively, we don’t really know what her specialty is.”

“Understood,” the wizard replied, already turning toward where the witch had made her escape to. “Javoc, Corsek, with me. The rest, proceed according to plan.”

As they had been ordered, the rest of the boarding party started dispersing in three distinct groups, bound for the three main areas they would need to hold to control the ship, namely the reactor room (control of which came with the added benefit of preventing someone from simply blowing up the entire thing, lest it fell into the hands of the attackers), the main bridge and the secondary bridge, or rather the space traffic control, from which the squadrons of fighter craft were controlled. Anything beyond that could be swept systematically later, as long as they held these three places. Funnily enough, no matter the size of the ship, this always remained a rule of thumb, as Harry had learned from a few of the more ‘adventurous’ members of the Rebellion he had been working with, even for an ISD. From a theoretic standpoint, that was, not that anyone had ever really tried.

“She’s bleeding,” Arden noted, looking at the corner around which their adversary had fled and pointing at a crimson stain on the otherwise pristine floor. “Won’t be for long, most likely. Most of my… former sisters have at least some skills in the healing arts, and a wound from a simple projectile weapon won’t challenge her.”

Spurned by their comrade’s warning words, the four-person party quickly turned the corner to follow the trail left behind by their adversary, even as the spacing between the droplets of red liquid on the floor steadily increased.

“Either she’s slowly healing herself, or she’s getting increasingly panicked and moving faster,” their tracker read, all the while continuing to dash after their quarry, almost flying along the corridor. “Down there.”

Next to the turbolift, they found Harry’s new personal enemy: an emergency shaft with a ladder in it. Silently grumbling, he let Arden get into it to climb down first (there was no ‘up’ to climb to), with him directly behind and Javoc and Corsek bringing up the rear. Just like the corridors on Imperial ships usually were, the maintenance and emergency shafts were stark, utilitarian and functional, but where the general-purpose areas had a certain roominess to them, that was totally missing from these ducts. Had he been claustrophobic, the wizard ventured internally, it would have been his own personal nightmare.

“She got out here,” Arden announced from below him, pointing at an opened hatch, just like the one they had entered through. “There’s more blood.”

That almost gleeful pronunciation was soon followed by a more alarmed one. “Damn, this is the hangar level.”

“Mercer,” Harry called into his helmet communicator, forgetting for a moment that the _Lightbringer_ was still jamming communications across the spectrum to keep at bay any possible emergency distress signals. When he remembered, he cursed once again, more loudly this time. “You go on, I have an idea.”

As the other three were running after the increasingly scarce bloods spatters into the direction of the carrier’s large main hangar, the young wizard did his best to centre himself and think of a dark and hungry night in a forest, what now seemed like a lifetime ago.

 _“With the messenger patronus, it’s not really about thinking something_ different _, it’s about thinking something_ more _,” Hermione said, staring in concentration at the piece of wood that was her wand, the one they were now sharing between the two of them. In an effort to get used to it, Harry had asked for some lessons in magic that would give him reason to use spells, maybe push his own boundaries a little. “I’m not doing a really good job of explaining this, am?”_

_“I wouldn’t say that,” the young man replied, looking at his bushy-haired, most trusted and true friend in amusement. “You still have to have the same feeling that lets you use a standard patronus, right?”_

_“Exactly,” Hermione nodded eagerly, seemingly taking to the throwback to simpler times like a fish to the water. Trying to teach him some piece of magic was so utterly, ridiculously common for the two of them that it really did provide the much-needed relief for the immense stress being on the run had subjected them to. “It’s what makes it so difficult. You have to keep the state of mind required for a patronus to work while also thinking of the message you want your messenger to convey. The less happy the message, the harder it is to cast the charm.”_

Considering the current situation, Harry doubted casting a messenger patronus would be easy, especially with not having used the original spell in… well, it had to be years, by now. In trying to recount the thoughts that had once enabled him to cast a patronus strong enough to drive away an entire swarm of dementors, he was shocked to find out he really could not elicit quite the same emotional response as he once had. Instead, almost unbidden, memories of this life, his new life came to mind; scenes spent in the isolation of Dathomir’s jungles, laughing with Arden and Mercer and the other members of the crew, and waking up with the slim body of Leia curled up next to him just a week earlier.

 _“Tell Mercer: The Inquisitor is trying to flee, move to intercept anything that comes out of the hangar!”_ he thought with all his might, before once again incanting the spell that had raised eyebrows when he claimed he had been able to do so since he was barely into his teens. “Expecto Patronum!”

What came forth from his wand though, was not the large stag he had been expecting, and Harry allowed himself to feel a pang of loss at the disappearance. Instead, what came into being were squared, scaled jaws, short arms, intelligent eyes, strong hind legs. Within moments, the ethereal representation of Rex… Regina the Kwi stood before him, batting her strong snout against his shoulder and speeding off into the distance, presumably to its intended destination, the bridge of the _Lightbringer_.

Without the time to really do so in that particular moment, the young wizard decided to postpone ruminations on the implications of his changed patronus and simply concentrated on the still ongoing chase as he dashed around the last few corners to the hangar, from where he could already hear raised voices. The picture that awaited him in the strangely empty space (just another reminder that a good deal of the crew had already been dealt with) was one he had not been expecting.

There were Javoc and Corsek, obviously, but they were standing to the side, riveted and wide-eyed, watching the goings-on in the centre of the room right before the ramp of a ship Harry vaguely remembered as being some kind of heavily armed transport for the Imperials, though for the life of him, he could not remember the actual name of the class. In the background, before the backdrop of space and directly before the open hangar hovered the _Lightbringer_ like a predator waiting out its prey.

That prey stood opposite Arden, breathing heavily, blood still silently dripping from her shoulder. Now that he had the opportunity to see her up close, the young wizard was able to see a few similarities between this woman’s choice of clothing, as compared to what his friend had been wearing when they had first met. Arguably, the Nightsister’s outfit looked more sinister, with darker colours and Imperial crests added to complete her transformation into a servant of the Emperor, but the basic substance was there. And if he had to guess, Harry would have said that was the reason Arden seemed so reluctant to engage her, even though, with kinetic weapons aimed at her that had already proven their effectiveness, the fight was likely to be over in moments. As he stepped into the vicinity, it proved enough of a distraction to have her look at him for just a fraction of a second, yet that was enough for the Imperial agent, it seemed.

“A sister of mine,” the Inquisitor observed in a sibilant voice. “Don’t deny it; I myself have learned to hold a staff just the way you do. But why are you out here, far away from Dathomir’s lush jungles? Catering to the whims of males?”

“As if I’d tell you,” Arden spat back poisonously, and Harry was getting worried that the other woman was actually managing to get under her skin.

“Ah, such anger. Were you banished for using the shadow spells, for seeking power, just the way I was?” A mad gleam in her eyes, their sinister opponent narrated, mostly disregarding the other people in the room. “We’re not so different, you and I. One small decision and you could be me… or am I wrong, and you did actually decide to join the Nightsisters? Were you too weak, feeb… hurgh.”

Without warning, the sound of a projectile weapon being discharged rang through the hangar, echoing from the far walls and the ship still inside.

“Maybe we are somewhat alike, you and I,” Arden replied, looking at the other witch now standing before her, grabbing the bleeding wound in her stomach with a shocked expression. “But not where it counts.”

Without another word, she turned around and left the way they had come, leaving the other three alone with their dying adversary.

“Incarcerus,” Harry muttered, pointing his left hand toward the stricken woman, watching strong ropes secure her wrists and ankles, not that she had much fight left in her. “You two, seal the room. I want to get as much out of this as possible. Arden can take care of herself.”

“Yes, Boss,” the two men agreed readily, taking up positions with their blaster rifles trained onto the main axes of entry to provide a fiery welcome for any unwanted visitors.

Harry himself stepped up to the Inquisitor his friend had just disabled, watching dispassionately as blood continued seeping into the black, uniform-like clothes she was wearing; after what he had seen these people did with the last one they had taken out, his compassion was less for the shell of a human that now lay before him, but more for the real human she had likely once been. And what he had been unable to do with the first two of these agents they had bested, he now had the ability to: he could make the best of another eventually senseless death and pull everything out of her that he could.

Looking into her pain-widened eyes with his own, both pairs unflinching, he mouthed the words to the legilimency attack he himself had been subjected to by Snape more times than he could count and dove into her mind, the defences she might once have had only a shadow of their former strength in this moment of incredible weakness. Assaulted by images and sounds, filtering out the relevant soon became impossible, as it seemed that, unable as she was to keep him out, the wounded creature that lay there on the hangar floor had instead embraced the contact and started sharing with him, not what he wanted to see, but what she wanted him to.

_A little girl in a village surrounded by the sights and sounds of Dathomir…_

_An adolescent fancy with the power of the forbidden magicks…_

_Banishment…_

_Tests and trials…_

_Servitude to the Empire in exchange for some unknown trade the clan mother of the Nightsisters had made…_

_Torture…_

_Even more tests and trials, each one more cruel than the last…_

_Interrogations, both as the victim and the interrogator…_

It was a startling amount of information, the stream of which abruptly ended only a few dozen seconds after it had started. Down on the ground, the wellspring of that stream had taken her final breath.

OOOOOOOO

“So, Boss, learn anything interesting from that Inquisitor?” Mercer asked, when Harry finally returned to the bridge after a very extensive shower that had been warranted not by a feeling of physical dirtiness, but rather some kind of stain on his soul; watching what Fandiq, the name of the Imperial agent they had taken out only an hour earlier, had done and had done to her was singularly disturbing.

“Not much of direct value,” the captain responded rubbing his still aching temples in slow circles. “As soon as she noticed what I was doing, she proceeded to relay her life’s story. Before that, I only learned the first things I was looking for, some high-level clearances and the location of a tracking beacon the Empire had on the carrier, so I disabled that one. Everyone ready to move? Have we heard from the _Morningstar_?”

It was a transparent ploy to change the subject, Harry knew, but luckily, they really did have to move, lest some overly nosy Imperial patrol happened upon the two ships hanging around in space where no one really had any reason to be.

“We had a transmission from Hound a few minutes ago, just like expected,” his first officer replied, pointing toward the navigational maps. “Hyperspace route, coordinates. They found a viable candidate, it seems. Minimally charted, the system was never really of any interest for some kind of development, not too far from a hyperspace route. You’ll be happy to hear we’re setting up shop just three hyperlane intersections away from the Perlemian trade route.”

“Sounds goo… sounds good,” Harry yawned widely, only now starting to realise how much the quick and intense bombardment with memories had tired him out. “How long?”

His second-in-command winced a little at that question. “If it were just us, I’d say just a few days. With that carrier’s transponders still in the original setting, we can’t really go through the core, that thing is way too conspicuous; fourteen days, if we want to stay away from any major population centres and hyperlanes.”

“Yes, that would be good, I think,” the captain replied tiredly, once again back to massaging his temples. “Do that, won’t you? I’ll call Leia, then get some sleep.”

Thankfully holding himself back on the ribbing Harry was sure he wanted to dish out, Mercer smiled knowingly and indulgingly, nodded softly and turned to the bridge crew.

“Signal the crew on the carrier that we’ll escort them along the indirect route, then prepare to jump,” the former Imperial officer ordered, and it was the last of him the young wizard heard for a while, as he stepped into the turbolift and rode to a well-deserved chat with his girlfriend and an equally deserved night of sleep.

OOOOOOOO

Arden and Jane, the Twi’lek former slave that still refused to make too many decisions for herself, were circling each other warily, staves in hand and eyes intently focused on each other’s movements.

The witch was unsure, what exactly had moved her to do it, but she had taken the young woman under her wings, so to speak; maybe it was a lingering feeling of guilt over how her own people treated about half of their population, something she had only rebelled against after it had started impacting her family, maybe it was the case that seeing someone seem so lost was simply inacceptable. Regardless of the reason, she had done her best though, and while a lot of the former slave’s verve in attacking the challenge that was learning _anything_ , let alone combat from Arden seemed like it stemmed from this being what Harry wanted for her, she was beginning to appear more self-sufficient. Yet choosing a name was not something she was willing to do.

With nary a whisper of her agile feet upon the mats, the red-skinned Twi’lek surged forward, the wooden staff swinging in a tight arc toward Arden’s left side, coming closer and closer… only to be parried, diverted and used to step into the attacker’s personal space. Within a moment, Jane was wheezing from a solid hit to the solar plexus with the tip of her opponent’s weapon.

“You’re dead,” the witch declared dispassionately. “Don’t overreach. Try again.”

Once again, the two were circling each other, the pupil now more wary than before. It was usually how these bouts went, with Jane having to take one hit to reawaken the caution that had once overly plagued her.

This time, though, it was Arden who attacked; in a small moment of apparent distraction on her pupil’s part she made a wider step into the younger woman’s weaker right side to land only a weak blow, owing to a last minute turn on the Twi’lek’s part.

“Good reaction,” she commented. “Next time don’t get distracted.”

Her words were not being minded though, it seemed, for her pupil had now stopped their little dance altogether, simply holding the staff in her left hand, low at her side.

“What is it?” Arden inquired in a tone of voice somehow caught between empathetic and brash, as odd a combination as it might be. But when Jane looked at her finally, it was quickly clear that no answer would be forthcoming, as there was only a deep-seated confusion behind those two eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, everyone, to the sequel for "A New World". I sincerely hope all of you will be enjoying this as much as you did the last one (and if you did not, what are you still doing here? Please, refrain from flames simply because you want to see the world burn) and as I did writing both.  
> Greetings,  
> alexandertheII


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